


Help Me Feed This Hunger

by WarlockWriter



Category: Knight Rider (1982)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, forced conversion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:09:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22381606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarlockWriter/pseuds/WarlockWriter
Summary: Knight Rider but with A/B/O dynamics. Michael wakes up having been given a new face by Wilton Knight. But that wasn't all Wilton changed to make Michael the perfect partner for KITT.Rating will probably go up later.Fills the A/B/O square of the Hoff Bingo
Relationships: KITT/Michael Knight (1982)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 37
Collections: The Hoff Bingo





	1. Chapter 1

“Wilton! This is completely unacceptable. Modifying his face to look like Garthe was bad enough. But this? I simply can’t go along with this.”

The older man leaned on his cane and looked up at Devon. “It was the only way to prepare the ideal driver for KITT.”

Devon paced back and forth. “You had an ideal driver in Garthe. But, no. You had to drive him away.”

“My son is weak. He’s not the right one for KITT. Michael was almost perfect. Now he is perfect.”

Devon shook his head. He’d put up with many disagreeable things in the course of the Knight Industries Two Thousand project, but he’d never expected it to get this far. “I simply can’t be a part of this anymore.” He turned to leave.

“Devon.” The word wasn’t loud, but it was backed by Alpha voice. He fought against it, but he stopped after no more than two steps. He tried to force his feet to move, but they were frozen to the floor. Slowly, he turned back to face Wilton.

“Of course, you can leave, but I wouldn’t recommend it.” There was no threat in the tone, just quiet certainty.

Devon’s shoulders fell. Because of course Wilton was correct. His hold was too deep. Besides, if he stayed, perhaps he could do something to salvage this situation.

***

Consciousness returned slowly to Michael. He remembered a flash in the night, followed by incredible pain. He’d fallen, hadn’t he? Was he dead? Electronic beeping surrounded him. A hospital? Had he survived?

Sensation crept up on him. His hands felt odd, and he tried to move them. Straps dug into his wrists. Why was he strapped down? His legs moved more easily, but they felt weak.

“Michael?”

The voice was male with a British accent. A doctor? With a struggle, he opened his eyes to see an older man, hair going grey, standing beside him. The face went in and out of focus, but he forced his eyes to cooperate, and the haze passed.

“Who are you?” His voice was rough, and his mouth felt as if he’d been stuck in the desert for a week.

“My name is Devon Miles. How much do you remember?”

Michael tried to make his brain work. Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t quite figure out what. “Uh. I was working a case.” His voice was coming more easily now. “I was shot.” He tried to move his hands again and was frustrated by the straps. “Thought I was dead.”

“You almost were.”

“Where am I?”

The smells in the room were…wrong somehow? He took a deep breath. Aged whiskey, gun oil and wood smoke. Those were Alpha scents. Why did they smell good to him?

A new voice answered. “You’re at the Foundation for Law and Government.”

Michael looked past Devon to see another man, older than Englishman. He leaned on a cane and smelled old and sick. And yet, his scent was also tantalizingly attractive. Pipe smoke, fine cognac and well-oiled leather. More Alpha scents? What was going on?

“Who are you?” He needed to buy some time for his brain to catch up.

“I’m Wilton Knight. I’m the one who arranged for your care. Without me, you’d be dead.”

“I was shot in the face. How did I survive?” He was certain of that memory. He remembered the agonizing pain in his head following the sound of the shot.

“You have a plate in your head. It deflected the bullet just enough. Sadly, your face was a ruin.”

Michael tried again to move his hands, but the straps were fastened too strongly. “My face?”

“Devon. Show him.” The older man’s voice held no sympathy. Only pride and satisfaction.

Devon frowned but reached behind him for something and came back with a hand mirror, which he held in front of Michael.

At first, he was certain his vision was still blurry or something because the face in the mirror wasn’t his face. He looked again. No, the image was clear. It wasn’t his face, but it was his hair. And those were his eyes.

“What…what did you do to me?” He couldn’t help the horror in his tone. “What happened to my face?”

“We reconstructed it, of course.”

Michael shook his head. “No. Reconstruction means putting it back the way it was. This…this is…not me.”

“Since Michael Long is officially dead, it wouldn’t do for someone to be running around with his face. So we altered it.”

“Dead? But I’m not dead.”

“Technically, you are. Your name is Michael Knight now.”

Michael could smell Devon’s unease with this situation. The aged whiskey was sour and the wood smoke was more char than smoke. Wilton’s scent, however, was smooth, other than the overlay of rot and decay that told Michael the man was dying.

“Michael Knight? You gave me your last name?”

Some part of his brain was pushing at him. There was more wrong here than just his face. The scents in the room were…strange. Alpha scents shouldn’t be so interesting. Two Alphas in the same room should be making him feel aggressive. Not…safe? Especially considering there was nothing safe about this situation.

“I gave you more than my last name,” Wilton said, his tone still even and almost disinterested. “We needed someone for a project, and, with a few adjustments, you were perfect.”

Michael heard Devon’s teeth grinding at that bald statement.

“What kind of adjustments? My face, you mean?”

“Oh no. More than that. We made you an Omega. It was necessary.”

Now everything made a sick sort of sense. Why the Alpha scents were so intense. Why they made him feel almost safe, but against his will.

He’d been an Alpha. Now he was an Omega? How was this possible?


	2. Chapter 2

Wilton and Devon both left the room, giving Michael space to think. He wasn’t sure he wanted it. He was an Omega now? He’d known about surgical transition to Beta, but he’d never realized it was possible to create an Omega from an Alpha.

His body felt…wrong. Unbalanced somehow. Sensations were strange. He felt…smaller somehow? Had they changed his size? He raised his head and wiggled his feet. No, they seemed the same distance away as always. But he definitely felt as if something was missing. That he had been reduced in some way.

Was this what all Omegas felt like? Or was it just him trying to adjust to the change?

He had to wonder what this meant for the rest of his life. He’d always tried to be a good Alpha, not one of the assholes who thought a knot meant they ruled the world…

Oh shit! His knot! Was it gone? Automatically, he tried to move his hands to check but was stopped by the straps. Why did they have him strapped down anyway? But his thoughts shot back to his knot. If he was an Omega, it was gone, right? What else was different? Was he able to have sex? Did he even want to have it?

That was more than he could think about at the moment, and he allowed his thoughts to skitter back to the two men who had left. Who were they? What was the project Wilton had mentioned? Why did they need an Omega for it? More importantly, why had he needed to be changed for this mysterious project?

And he was officially dead?

Closing his eyes against the onslaught of emotion, he felt tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. He’d never really been much of a crier. Was it the situation? Or was it being an Omega? They were more emotional, right?

The scent of whiskey and gun smoke entered the room, and Michael opened his eyes to see Devon regarding him, his expression grim and somehow sad.

“I’m sorry. I did try to talk him out of this. But he’s dying, and it’s affected his priorities. He wants to see this project going while he still can.”

“What project? Why am I here?” Michael fought against the soothing offered by the Alpha’s scent. He didn’t want to be soothed. He wanted answers!

“I’m not at liberty to talk to you about it. Wilton has insisted that he be the only one to discuss it with you.”

“Then where is he? I want answers.” He lifted his arms as far as they would go. “And I want out of these? Why am I restrained anyway?”

Devon got a calculating look in his eye and stepped forward to unstrap him. “You were trying to claw at the bandages on your face.”

As the Alpha approached, his scent grew stronger. At the touch of Devon’s hands on him, Michael felt something wet slide down his backside. Shit! Slick! He had slick now. He watched in mortification as Devon’s nostrils widened. The older man quickly undid the straps and took several steps back.

“I’m sorry about that. It’s because your body is still adjusting. The response will ease as it gets used to its new state.”

“You’ve done this before?”

Sadness mixed with disgust flickered in Devon’s eyes. “Once before, yes. Not, I, per se, but yes, you’re the second one Wilton has had this done to.”

Rage dispelled the momentary arousal Michael had felt. “What is it with you people? Playing with lives like this.” He used his newly freed hands to push himself into an upright position. “And I suppose you can’t tell me what happened to the other one, can you?”

Devon shook his head. “No.” His mouth quirked in a wry half-grin. “However, I might be able to get you some answers in another way.”

Michael shifted his body on the bed. Just that brief touch had soaked the sheet under him, and the wet spot was getting cold. “How?”

“If you feel up to walking, there are clothes in that closet.” He motioned over his shoulder. “Not that you heard it from me, but you might find some answers in the large outbuilding in back of the mansion.”

“Mansion?”

Devon waved a hand around him. “This place. The Knight mansion.”

Michael narrowed his eyes at Devon. “Outbuilding, you say.”

“No, I didn’t say. Because you didn’t hear it from me.” Now his eyes were twinkling with roguish mirth.

“Right.” Michael nodded. “But if I happened to go to this place you didn’t tell me about, I might get some answers.”

“You might at that.”

Although Michael hated everything about this situation, he was starting to like Devon, at least a little bit. Maybe he had an ally here. “All right. Well, I guess I’ll just lie here and rest for a few minutes.”

Devon winked at him. “Excellent idea. I’ll just get out of your way and let you _rest._ ” The emphasis on the word was impossible to miss.

The older man left, leaving Michael alone with his thoughts, along with this new face and body. As soon as Devon was out of sight, Michael pushed back the sheet. He didn’t want to know, but he needed to know. He was wearing nothing but a pair of loose boxers. With trembling hands, he pushed down the underwear and felt tears well in his eyes again.

As he’d expected, his knot was gone, replaced by an ugly scar. He knew he wasn’t defined by it, that he was still basically the same man without it, but the loss still devastated him.

It was a while before he could manage to stop crying and climb out of bed to get some answers.

***

His legs were unsteady, but he managed to walk to the closet and pull out jeans, a black t-shirt and a black leather jacket. Dressing all in black fit his mood, and he was glad nothing was colorful.

Standing up to get dressed was almost more than he was able to do. His head swam, and the world moved sickeningly around him. His body felt more wrong by the minute. Scents both excited and repulsed him. Michael felt hyper-aware of everything in the room which had been touched by either Devon or Wilton. A part of him wanted to touch and scent everything, but more of him was disgusted by the impulse. Alpha scents weren’t supposed to be so damned attractive to him. An Omega had spent considerable time in the room also, and their scent was cloying. Too sweet. Just too much now. Where before, he’d have wanted to just take a moment to appreciate it. The Omega was mated—that was obvious from the strong overtone of smoke in the softer, sweeter honey odor--but Michael had always enjoyed Omega scents, even when he had no intention of propositioning or even talking to them.

Shaking his head to try to clear it was a mistake. He almost lost his balance and had to grab the bed for support. It was time to get out of here. Holding to the wall, he walked slowly to the door and peered around the jamb.

The hallway was empty except for extensive artwork on the walls and on tiny little pedestals which stood at attention like ranks of Terracotta soldiers. Clearly this Wilton Knight was rich, which probably explained why he didn’t hesitate to mess with the lives of virtual strangers.

He spotted a set of French doors just past the last piece of artwork, a large vase that he thought might be Chinese. The doors were the only way out he could see, and he started for them. Wishing there were less crap on and against the walls, he forced his legs to keep moving, but some support would have made it easier.

Finally, he made it to the doors, which opened quietly at a touch, and he made his way outside. The sun was low on the horizon, and a warm breeze blew off the ocean, just visible across the lawn. Glancing around, he saw a path leading around the house. He followed it and finally came out near what he hoped was the outbuilding Devan had mentioned.

It had a rolling door like a garage. What was it? Walking forward, he tested the door. It wouldn’t open. Huh. How to get in then? He let his eyes scan the building and saw a staircase leading up to a door. Hoping it wasn’t locked, he climbed the stairs and tested. The door opened easily, and he went inside.

The building was dark, illuminated only from the light streaming in from the outside. He saw stairs leading down, and he let the door fall closed behind him as he grabbed the rail and went down carefully.

When he got to the bottom of the stairs, he tried peering through the darkness, but he couldn’t see anything through the gloom.

A red light started moving slowly in front of him. He squinted, not sure what it was. He’d never seen anything quite like it. A moment later, headlights opened like eyes, and an engine growled. Michael stood his ground, knowing instinctively that to run would be dangerous.

A scent wafted toward him. Desert scirocco, black pepper, salt & vinegar. Strong Alpha scents. They smelled so good that thought fled him for a moment. Every part of him wanted to scent the Alpha producing those tantalizing aroma.

Who was driving the car, and was this part of the mysterious “project” Wilton and Devon had been talking about?


	3. Chapter 3

The car rolled to a stop in front of him, red light still moving rhythmically back and forth. Michael strained his eyes but couldn’t see anything in the cabin.

“Who’s there? Devon? Is that you?”

“No,” a voice answered. “I am the Knight Industries Two Thousand. But you may call me KITT if you prefer.”

The voice was cultured with a slight Boston accent. It definitely wasn’t Devon, but it did carry a hint of the Englishman’s precision.

“What kind of name is that?” He cringed at the bluntness of his question.

“Mine, of course.”

Michael peered again into the darkness of the car’s cabin. “But who are you? Maybe some light so I can see you?”

“I’m right in front of you. Even your human eyes should be able to see me.”

Human eyes? What? A sudden suspicion began to grow. “Wait. Am I talking to the car?”

“Of course.”

“How am I talking to a car?”

“With your mouth, perhaps?” KITT was starting to sound irritated, if a car could feel that emotion.

Michael’s legs felt weak and almost buckled under him. He heard the distinctive clunk of a car door opening.

“Climb in,” KITT said. “Your vitals are looking unsteady. I think you need to sit down.”

Michael got into the car. The cool leather surrounded him, and the Alpha scents were even stronger here. Had an Alpha been in the car recently? “Wait? Vitals? You’re reading my vitals?”

He finally processed the dashboard, filled with blinking lights and computer displays. He supposed it made sense for a talking car to look like a science fiction spaceship.

“Of course. You are my driver. I need to be able to monitor your well-being.”

And more shocks. “I’m your driver? Are you the project Devon and Wilton keep talking about?”

“Yes.”

Banks of lights suddenly turned on, starting in the back of the building and moving steadily forward. Now Michael could see the hood of the car he was sitting in. It looked an awful lot like the hood of his own car. His head whipped around at the sound of approaching footsteps. Wilton and Devon walked to the car and stood a few feet away from it.

“So you’ve found it,” Wilton said, his tone satisfied. “Another indication you are the correct person for this project.”

Michael’s eyes darted to Devon, whose expression was resigned. If Michael wanted to admit who had pointed him in the direction of the car, he would accept it. However, Michael was, even though reluctantly, starting to like the older man. He got out of the car but leaned against it for support. “Yeah. I found it. But what is it? It looks like my car.”

“Looks can be deceiving. _That_ is much better than your car.”

“But I am his car.” KITT’s tone was certain and sure. “He is my driver. Therefore, I am his car.”

“That is true, KITT, although not quite what I meant. I meant that you are not the car he has been driving until now. You just have a similar shell. What is underneath is quite different from his old car.”

Michael wanted to get back some control of this conversation. “Look, I’m sure KITT is a nice car and all that, but I don’t need a new car. I’ve got one, and if it’s all the same to you, I’ve got a life to get back to. I’m leaving.”

“You can’t,” Wilton said, a small sly smile crossing his features.

“What do you mean, I can’t!”

“Michael Long is officially dead,” Devon answered.

“Dead? I’m not dead.” He glanced down at his body as if to make sure everything was still in the right place. Or as much as could be, considering the changes he’d been subjected to.

“No, you’re not dead, but Michael Long is.”

Devon handed over a wallet, which Michael flipped through. Credit cards, driver’s license. “Wait. Michael _Knight_? You flipped me from an Alpha to an Omega, had me reported as dead and then gave me _your_ last name? I’ve had it with all of you! I’m leaving now. I’ll take my chances with this being dead thing.” He was thinking quickly. How could he get himself reinstated as “among the living”? No one at the police station would recognize him with this face, but surely he could convince someone he was who he said he was. Right?

“KITT.” Wilton’s tone was quiet but firm, and it made Michael stop his furious thinking to pay attention.

The Alpha scent he’d noticed in the car grew stronger, almost…commanding? He found himself wondering why he wanted to leave. The desert scirocco was warm and inviting, so good that he wanted to stay near it.

However, Michael’s stubbornness caught up with his hormones, and he shook himself. “Stop that. Compelling me might work in the short term, but long-term, I will resist you.”

The scent faded until it was no more than a vague background, still good but no longer enticing. “I won’t do that again,” KITT announced. “I will do what my driver wishes.”

“KITT!” Now Wilton’s tone was promising consequences.

“No, Wilton. You programmed me to obey my driver. Michael has made it clear that he doesn’t want to be compelled in that way. Therefore, I will not.”

“Wait a minute,” Michael said, his brain catching up to what had happened. “The car is an Alpha? How is that even possible?”

“Possible and true,” Devon said, his tone obviously attempting to be soothing. Too bad the topic was anything but. “There were…issues…with KITT’s predecessor. It was felt those issues would be lessened if the car were an Alpha, with an Omega driver.”

“What is it with you people that you think nothing of messing with the lives of others?”

“You’re alive,” Wilton pointed out. “A certain amount of gratitude would be appropriate.”

Michael motioned at his changed body. “Like this? Surgically altering me? No thanks. Find another Omega for your car. I’m out of here.” He started for the stair leading out. Before he’d gone more than a few steps, he felt something nudge the back of his legs. Whirling, he saw KITT right behind him, red sensor light moving steadily back and forth.

“Michael. I understand why you might want to leave.”

“Might?”

The car’s tone softened. “All right. Why you definitely want to leave. But you’re still my driver. Allow me to accompany you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Michael noticed Wilton starting to take a step forward, raising his cane. Devon took his arm and spoke quietly in his ear. The old man halted and leaned back on his cane.

The desert scirocco and spice scent was almost too faint to be detected, and Michael knew the car…KITT…was not trying to influence him. Did it really want to go with him? He did need transportation. Would Wilton allow it? He glanced over at the two older men. Devon gave him a fractional nod.

“Well, apparently this _is_ my car.” He made a questioning motion in Wilton’s direction.

The old man sighed and frowned. “Yes, we had programmed KITT to respond to you. I suppose it’s too much bother to try to reprogram him.”

Something about the sourness in Wilton’s pipe smoke scent made Michael suspect he was being set up in some way. But if they let him have the car, how much did he really mind?

“So I can take it.”

“Him,” KITT said suddenly. “I prefer to be referred to as him.”

Michael glanced at him and shrugged. “All right then. Him. I can take him?”

Wilton paused for a long moment before nodding. There was an odd satisfaction in his scent which Michael didn’t like, but it was obvious the old man was dying. Devon seemed to be more reasonable. Perhaps things would change soon.

Which was the moment he realized he was seriously considering working for these people. He lightly touched KITT’s hood. No, he was considering working _with_ KITT. There was a difference.

The triumph in Wilton’s scent made him wonder if he was making the right decision. But then he caught pleased satisfaction from KITT, and he thought maybe he could live with the situation if he had the car on his side.

He climbed into the driver’s seat. “I’m driving,” he said firmly. “I don’t care that you can drive yourself. I’m the one in charge here.” He felt he needed to establish that. Being turned into an Omega was still leaving him off balance, and he wanted some foundation in this insanity that had become his life.

“Of course,” KITT said. “You are my driver.”

He caught the hint of a smile from Devon. Perhaps he really did have two allies here.

“All right, KITT. Let’s see what you can do.”

He slammed the accelerator and crashed through the door. He supposed KITT could probably open it, but this was far more satisfying.

Interestingly, the car didn’t chide him as they raced down the road.


	4. Chapter 4

KITT was concerned about Michael. He was programmed to attend to the needs of his driver, and to do that, he was able to monitor his vitals. His heart rate was elevated as was his blood pressure. Considering he was still recovering from major surgery, KITT supposed that wasn’t entirely unexpected. However, he was worried about Michael’s scent. While KITT couldn’t technically “smell,” he had sensors tuned to Alpha and Omega scents which complemented his ability to produce his own Alpha scent. Michael’s strongest scent was honeysuckle, which he knew was the Omega opposite of soy sauce, the strongest of Michael’s former Alpha scents. However, the honeysuckle was oddly sour and wilted. KITT was reasonably certain that wasn’t good.

He wanted to do something because the scent was putting him on edge, which he hadn’t realized was possible. Automatically, he released his own scent.

“Don’t.”

It was the first word Michael had spoken since they had started driving.

He immediately suppressed it. “I’m sorry. Your scent is…off? I was trying to help.”

“I’ve been forced to become an Omega. What would you expect? That I’d be normal?”

If he could have, KITT would have winced at the harsh tone. “I…didn’t ask that of them. I do want a driver. My programming demands it, but I never asked to be an Alpha or to have them create an Omega for me.”

It seemed so inadequate, but it was all he had to offer.

There was a long pause. “Are you actually an Alpha? I mean, how did they give a gender to a car?”

KITT considered carefully how to answer that. Michael’s heart rate had not slowed, and he was aware his driver’s body had produced slick when KITT had released scent. He didn’t understand exactly how sexual arousal worked in humans, but he knew what slick production indicated, and he suspected it was embarrassing to Michael. He wished he could ease this for him, but this was as new for him as for his driver. He’d been programmed with a lot of information about human physiology. If only he’d been given more about their psychology. He resolved to ask Bonnie when he saw her next. Surely, she could explain how to help Michael through this transition period.

“I’m not sure how they gave it to me. I have some understanding of my programming, but I don’t have access to all my schematics. However, I think Wilton felt that this would work best somehow. I’m aware there was a model before me, and it didn’t work out. They didn’t tell me much about it, but I think the other driver was an Alpha, and somehow that conflicted with the programming of my predecessor? However, I am an Alpha in that I can produce pheromones and I have been programmed to interface most compatibly with an Omega.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

Michael’s heart rate was coming down, but there was still tension in his voice. This was only working a little. And KITT realized he had no idea what “interface with an Omega” meant. “I’m not sure.” He allowed chagrin to creep into his voice. “It’s something Wilton mentioned frequently, but now I realize I’m not certain what he intended by this.”

Michael, laughed, a harsh bark that held little humor. “So in other words, you’re as clueless about this as I am?”

“I think that may be the case.”

“Blind leading the blind. Great!”

KITT was fairly certain Michael’s tone indicated “sarcasm,” but he decided to answer seriously. “Is that so bad? If we don’t have preconceived notions, we can…sort of see what happens?”

Michael’s heart rate slowed further. “I guess I’ll have to live with that.”

KITT decided he’d take that for the moment. Did he really have a choice anyway?

***

Their first drive went well, and Michael reluctantly allowed them to go back to the mansion. He didn’t have any other place to live anyway. He’d figure out something, but for now he almost liked the idea of making Wilton support him.

That didn’t last long. Wilton died a day after they got back. Michael supposed he should feel bad about it, but he couldn’t summon up much sympathy for the old man who had turned his life upside down. The death did seem to affect Devon, and the next day, Michael unbent enough to ask him about it.

Devon was sitting on the porch overlooking the ocean, an untouched cup of tea on the delicate filigreed table next to him. He didn’t recognize the china pattern but guessed it was expensive. The cup appeared fragile enough to break if he looked at it wrong.

Michael pulled up a deck chair and sat down. Devon glanced up and gave him a faint smile. “So, what now? Does this ‘project’ still keep going?”

“If you’re willing.” Devon picked up the cup, took a small sip, frowned and put it back down. “It’s gone cold.”

“How long have you been sitting out here?”

“Since before the sun came up.”

It was nearly noon. Michael felt a stab of sympathy for the older man. “What was the old man to you? Something tells me you didn’t always agree on everything.”

Devon’s gaze remained on the ocean. “You’re not wrong. Wilton was a brilliant visionary, but some of his ideas were… Well, let’s just say part of my job was to restrain some of his more ‘out there’ notions. I wasn’t always successful.”

“You mean me?”

The older man nodded. “I am truly sorry for what he did to you, Michael.”

“He’s gone. Can’t you tell me more now?”

With a sigh, Devon drank off the rest of his tea. “Some, yes. Some, I am prevented from telling you, even now.”

“What hold did the old guy have on you?”

Devon gave him a sharp look. “What makes you say that?”

Michael frowned at him. “Come on, man. It’s pretty obvious. I was a cop, remember? I have good instincts for this sort of thing.”

“Ah yes. That is an excellent point. All right then, I suppose there is no harm in telling you. Who knows? Perhaps you can help me do something about it.”

“You mean, even dead, he has a hold on you?”

“Quite so.”

Michael was suddenly aware of the char in Devon’s scent.

“It’s my daughter, you see. It would be a bit of a scandal if it were known she were mine.”

“Why? And why does that matter now that he’s dead?”

Devon sighed and regarded his empty teacup with a mournful expression. “It’s who her mother is, you see. Her reputation would be harmed if it were known her daughter is illegitimate. Her ‘father’ doesn’t know, and her mother and I had agreed that was for the best. Wilton found out, made certain I knew that he knew and threatened it would come to light if I failed to follow his directions.”

“Who is her mother?”

“Currently the wife of the American ambassador to Great Britain. Her husband has been a foreign service officer assigned to Great Britain for most of his career.”

“Which is how you met her, I presume?” Michael was interested. The Alpha hadn’t struck him as the kind of man to sleep around, but he supposed anyone was capable of falling in love or lust with the wrong person.

“Of course. However, it’s a bit more complicated than that. Amanda is an Omega, and her husband is Beta.”

Michael frowned. It wasn’t unheard of, but it was rare for Betas to mate with anyone other than a Beta, mostly because pairings with Omegas were rarely fertile unless an Alpha was involved. “So her becoming pregnant was a surprise?”

“Very much so. It wasn’t a love match, you see.”

Michael’s eyebrows went up. That made it even more unusual. On the rare occasions Omega’s mated with Betas or other Omegas, it was usually because of love and against the wishes of parents.

“It was a marriage between powerful families. Yes, I know, it’s highly irregular for a Beta/Omega match under those circumstances, but Amanda’s parents had money but no social standing to speak of.”

“And I assume his family has a reputation but no money?

“You assume correctly. Yes, the marriage was a bit of a scandal, but everyone understood the reasons. Both Amanda and her husband were only children, so the marriage was allowed. They had planned to adopt, but well…Amanda and I met while her husband was in Africa, along with a delegation of some sort…I forget the details. We were very attracted to each other, and when Amanda went into heat…”

Michael nodded. When Omegas were in heat, they were almost always fertile, at least when they were with an Alpha. Pregnancy was almost assured, and they would have known it. “Surely you took precautions?”

“Of course.” Devon sounded affronted that Michael would have even asked. “She wasn’t on any sort of contraceptive, but I was.”

“It failed, then.”

“Obviously.”

Michael tilted his head at the older man. “Then how did you ever get yourself out of that one? An Omega married to a Beta gets pregnant? Anyone is going to assume infidelity.”

“As they would. However, the timing was in our favor. He returned unexpectedly two days early. She had a servant who was completely devoted to her, and he warned us that the husband had returned early.”

Michael thought he saw where this was going. “He came home. She was at the tail end of her heat, and she jumped him. Just in case things went badly, there was a plausible reason for her becoming pregnant.”

“Exactly. He had no reason to suspect Amanda, and when April was born she was such a perfect match for her mother and I was close enough in hair and eye color to the husband that she looked enough like him to assuage any suspicion.”

“So no one thought to do a DNA test. His prestige was enhanced by apparent fertility with an Omega, and everyone was basically happy.”

Sadness lingered in Devon’s eyes, and Michael realized he had truly loved Amanda. “Basically, yes. I have seen April once. She’s a lovely young woman, and I’m proud to be her father. I wish I could have spent more time with her, but it wasn’t to be.”

“And you’re sure she’s yours?”

Devon nodded firmly. “Very. Amanda had a DNA test performed discreetly. We wanted to know if there was anything to worry about. We thought the results were known only to us. Wilton never told me how he found out, but he presented me with the evidence five years ago, when he started the Knight Rider program.”

“He suspected you might have issues with some of the things he was planning, and he wanted to make sure he had a hold on you?”

“Exactly. I considered many times defying him. Had it only been my reputation on the line, I would not have hesitated.”

“But you didn’t want to ruin anything for your daughter.”

“No, Amanda and I had agreed that she would be told when she was old enough to know why it needed to remain a secret. I have held out the hope for 28 years that one day I might be able to have a relationship with my only daughter. More than that, though, I didn’t want Amanda to suffer.” He gave a slight shrug. “So I tolerated things I would not have otherwise. And had ample reason to regret them many times.”

“But now he’s gone.”

“And he’s left instructions that the information be revealed if certain watchers, unknown to me, detect that I am going against his wishes.”

Michael considered. “In other words, if I could find and neutralize that threat, you’d appreciate it.”

Devon’s eyes widened. “I never allowed myself to believe you’d be willing to help me, but if you are, I’m grateful.”

“I hate pretty much everything you both did to me, but you seem a decent enough guy. Maybe we can help each other.”

Devon nodded slowly. “I’m sure we can.”

Michael held out a hand, and they shook on it. “Then I’ll see what I can do.” He sighed. “Other than that, what exactly is supposed to happen with this Knight Rider project?”

Devon smiled. “I’m glad you asked. As misguided as Wilton was, there is the potential to do much good here.”

Michael sat back, prepared to listen. He didn’t have any better prospects at the moment. For now, he’d see where this took him. 


End file.
